


Keep Loving One Another

by xxSparksxx



Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Season/Series 03, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 17:16:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11318016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxSparksxx/pseuds/xxSparksxx
Summary: Keep loving one another as brothers and sisters. Hebrews 13:1In which Demelza invites Sam to come for tea, and Sam does not really understand why.





	Keep Loving One Another

**Author's Note:**

  * For [princessofpoldark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessofpoldark/gifts).



> Set between 3.02 and 3.03. No spoilers for 3.03 beyond the set-up of the end of 3.02.
> 
> Beta-read by mmmuse, who picked up all my needless repetitions! 
> 
> For princessofpoldark, who loves Sam.

Two days after Ross leaves for France, Demelza sends a message to Sam, asking him to visit her at Nampara one afternoon when he’s not down the mine.

Sam comes the next day, face and hands freshly scrubbed, confusion clear to see when she invites him into the parlour. There’s tea brewing in the teapot already, and Demelza lays out fresh-baked cakes on her new crockery. Jeremy is playing with tin soldiers on the floor by the empty fireplace. 

“T’was brother you sent for, mebbe,” Sam says, looking at it all in confusion. He’s been in Nampara before, but only a handful of times. Once when he came to the district. Once when he came to invite them to sup with he and Drake in their new home, rented to them by Ross. Once when he came, with Drake, to tell of Reverend Odgers banning the Methodists from church. Demelza still marvels at the new furnishings in the house, the new dresser and crockery, the tablecloths and curtains. She can imagine how it must look to Sam. He’s not covetous, never was even before religion, but it’s riches beyond what they could have hoped for as children. “The message was misheard, sister,” Sam goes on. “I’ll send Drake along when he’s up from the mine.”

“Nay, Sam, I asked for you,” Demelza says mildly. “I feel I scarce see you now you’re settled. Drake comes by more often, but you’re so occupied I might not see you at all if I didn’t make certain of it. And with Ross gone to France, you’ll mind I like a bit of company.” Sam looks at her, brow furrowed, still lacking understanding. But he sits in the chair she indicates, accepts tea and a piece of cake. 

He is not a conversationalist. He is at his best when able to speak of his faith, so she’s unsurprised when he is silent for a few minutes. He sips his tea, eats a little cake, but seems unable to find anything to say. She does not know how to breach the silence. She has her reasons for inviting him, but how to begin? Then Jeremy spots the cakes and comes running over, his angelic face upturned and a winsome smile on his face. Demelza laughs, and cuts him a small slice. Sam smiles, and it changes his whole face, makes him younger, less serious and, for a few moments, more like the brother she remembers from childhood.

“He’s a fine boy,” Sam says. “He keeps brave?”

“He ailed more as a baby than my first,” Demelza says, pouring Jeremy some milk in his own little cup. He likes to think he’s taking tea with her, her little Jeremy, but he dislikes the taste of it, so he has milk and pretends. “But he’s well enough now.”

“Thanks be to God,” Sam murmurs. Demelza nods serenely, thinks ‘thanks be to Dwight Enys’ but does not say it aloud. It would be tempting fate, with Dwight missing and Ross gone in search of any news. She will sorely miss Dwight at this next childbirth. She dares not think about what might happen if another epidemic comes near the district, as it surely will eventually. “Your first,” Sam adds then, “I mind Father telling us the child was with God. Two-three year ago, I think?”

“Four years, now,” she corrects him. “T’was just after Christmas. We both had the putrid throat.”

“She rests in God’s grace now, sister,” he says earnestly.

“That’s a comfort now,” Demelza agrees. “It wasn’t then, you’ll understand. It was…very hard for me, brother.” Sam shakes his head, lacking understanding and, she’s sure, regretful that she isn’t in God’s light as he is. But he seems to recognise that she doesn’t want to speak on it, so he does not preach an earnest sermon on God’s mercies. She’s glad of it; she accepts his faith, but is so firm in her own beliefs that she does not wish for preaching from anyone, least of all her brother. “But we’ve Jeremy now,” she says, to brighten the conversation, “and soon there’ll be another.”

“Oh!” Sam stares, and then smiles broadly. “Oh, I am glad for ee, sister. God in His wisdom has blessed ee, and Cap’n Poldark.” His eyes are warm, his good wishes genuine. He is so unlike Drake, this brother: he does not wear his heart on his sleeve. But he has a heart, and a good one, and Demelza is glad to coax it out of him. She is tempted to tease him, to suggest that perhaps she need not become a Methodist to have God’s blessing after all. But Sam is not Drake, he is not at ease with being teased, and she values his smile too much to risk upsetting him with a jest.

“’Tis all I dreamed of,” she says instead. “A happy life…my own home, my husband, my children around me.” Sam nods, his smile fading into seriousness, and she knows he’s preparing to urge her into the light of God again. She forestalls him. “I mind when I left you all,” she says. “Sometimes it do feel like another lifetime…but I never forgot you all, brother. I thought of you often.”

Sam stares down into his teacup. “We thought of ee, sister,” he says quietly. “We missed ee greatly.” Demelza can’t stop a grimace of disbelief; Sam glances up in time to see it. “Drake most of all,” he says, “but the rest of your brothers too. We all missed ee.” Demelza is chastened. He does not speak of missing the work she did, the food she provided. She should not have thought it; Sam is too good a man to have voiced such an idea, nor even think it. Her father missed her for her work, but not Sam. Nor Drake, neither. She’d all but mothered him, the youngest of her brothers, small and full of laughter even when his belly was empty. Sam hadn’t needed mothering. Sam is scarcely more than a year younger than she, and he’d borne as much of their father’s temper as she had, sometimes. 

“Can you forgive me for leaving you all?” she asks. Sam looks askance at her, and Demelza reaches out impulsively, covers his hand with hers. “It was never for lack of loving you, Sam. Nor the others. It was only that Father…”

“He was deep in sin,” Sam says. It’s neither a condemnation nor an excuse, somehow, in Sam’s solemn and earnest voice. “Deep in the pit of wickedness, and often tempted by the devil of drink.” They are silent together for a few moments. Demelza is remembering; she cannot guess what Sam is thinking about. Then Sam shrugs his shoulders and smiles. “He changed, sister,” he says. “I dearly wish you’d knowed him once he found the way of God and turned away from sin.” Demelza can’t wish the same, so she says nothing. “As for forgiveness,” Sam goes on, “why, sister, ‘tis not for me to forgive ee. The good Lord sees what’s in our hearts and judges our sins. Only He can offer forgiveness, and only by prayer can we follow the path to righteousness.”

Demelza smiles a little, but not as genuinely as Sam. “I pray,” she says. “But I pray for others, not for myself. I’m not convinced of sin in the people around me…not the way you are. But I pray for their happiness, their safety…” Her breath catches in her throat. Jeremy has finished his cup of milk and he’s watching her, his chin resting on the edge of the table. He knows Ross is gone, but not how far or for how long, nor does he know in what danger Ross could be. Demelza will keep that from him, for he’s too young to have such worries. “Perhaps that’s not what you want for me, Sam,” she says after a moment, “but I…I have my own beliefs, and I’m content in them.”

Sam stirs. “I shall pray for ‘ee to see the light of God, and to come to join with us in his blessing,” he says slowly. “But…though ‘tis not my place to offer forgiveness…you must know I never blamed ee.” 

Demelza inhales and lets the breath out slowly. She has needed to hear that from Sam, from this quiet, reserved man who is so unlike the boy she remembers. Drake she knows; Drake she would recognise anywhere. But Sam is a stranger to her again, distant because so much time has passed and distant because she cannot share his faith. It is a relief to hear his forgiveness now, to know that the distance between them is not because he blames her for leaving. It is a relief.

“Thank you, Sam,” she says. “Thank you.”

“Unca Sam,” Jeremy says, demanding attention, and Sam, charmed, lets Jeremy claim it from him. Within a few minutes, uncle and nephew are kneeling on the floor together, arranging and rearranging Jeremy’s soldiers. Demelza pours herself another cup of tea and watches, content to idle away the time. It’s pleasing to her, seeing Sam play so with her son. Two dark heads bent together over the little figures of tin. Sam gently teaching Jeremy how he might line up the soldiers like this, or like that, to best form an orderly squadron; Sam answering Jeremy’s questions with patience and kindness; Sam tweaking Jeremy’s nose and making the boy laugh.

At length Sam rises and dusts off his trousers. “’Tis late,” he says, “and I have chores to tend to afore meeting tonight.” Jeremy rises too, and clings on to Sam’s hand. “Nay, little lad, ‘tis wrong to be over-idle,” Sam tells him gently. “‘Tis a sin. God gives us work to do to keep us from the temptation of idleness.” Jeremy doesn’t understand. Demelza has to laugh, and Sam looks annoyed for a moment, but then he too seems to realise the futility of teaching a child of four the complexities of religion. He smiles, and bends down to Jeremy’s level. “I have greatly enjoyed sharing your game, nephew,” he says. “Perhaps one day your mother’ll bring you along to meeting, and we can sing our thanks to God together, aye?”

“Yes,” says Jeremy, who doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to, and Demelza shakes her head and rolls her eyes at Sam, who knows she can’t and won’t refuse her child and so will attend a meeting, one of these days. 

She walks him to the door, and Sam lingers there for a moment, looking across the horizon towards the sea. “Will Cap’n Poldark be gone long, sister?” he asks soberly. Demelza shrugs and says nothing. Ross may be gone days, or weeks. He may be gone forever, if it goes ill. She feels to speak of any length of time would be bad luck, somehow. “And do ee bide here all alone, with just Mistress Paynter and the little lad?”

“We’ll manage fine,” Demelza says. “I’m not yet so gentrified I can’t chop my own firewood, nor muck out the pigs.” Sam smiles again, warmth in his eyes, and Demelza smiles back. “I’ve Mr Henshawe and Zacky to help me with the mine, and you and Drake to turn to if I need aught around the farm,” she says. “But a bit of company now and then would do me good, brother. If you’ve time to spare.”

“Of course. And mind you do ask, sister – for any help we can give.” He puts his hat on, steps out of the house and then hesitates again. “Why did ‘ee ask for me to come today?” he asks her then. “I mind you’d some special reason.”

Demelza sighs, and goes to him, linking her arm through his. Sam is startled, but obediently walks down the path as she guides him forwards.

“I did have a reason,” she says. “I didn’t like for you to think I’ve more of a taking for Drake than you, Sam. You’re both my brothers, and I d’care for you both, though maybe I don’t show it as I ought.” Sam is silent, and Demelza sighs again and squeezes his arm. She is closer to Drake, even now. It’s true, and she can’t deny it. They’re alike, she and her youngest brother, in fundamentals. They’re built the same way. Sam is not. Sam is different. Sam is a solid stone, placed in a stream letting all flow around him and serene in his certainty. She admires him for that, but she cannot share his attitude, and it creates a division between them. She is eager to find some way to bridge it. Some way that Sam and she can both accept. Not a bridge built of the bonds of shared religion, as he’d like, but _something_. “You’re my brother too,” she says at last. “And it do distress me, to think I’ve not showed it. I can’t share your faith, Sam, but I admire you for it. Truly, I do. Can that not be enough, for now?”

“Aye,” Sam says at last. “Aye. I do know you care for us both. I shouldn’t have said what I did, to Drake. ‘Twas foolish and prideful.” He stopped her, and smiled down at her. “I’ll pray for ee, sister,” he says. “And for the little lad, and for Cap’n Poldark’s safe return.”

“Thank you, brother Sam.” She kisses his cheek, and smiles at his blush. “Now mind you both come visit me often,” she instructs. “And to see Jeremy, too. He’s taken a great liking to both his uncles.” Sam gives his solemn promise to return soon, and then he takes his leave. Demelza watches him go, watches until he is only a small figure, ant-like against the hillside. Then she goes back inside the house, which feels a little less empty than it had that morning.


End file.
